Free Templar's Destiny (9780545415095) by Kat Black Page A

I examined the hot traces of red that lined his throat and reached deep into his stomach. I’d never seen anything like it before. The angry red was not just in those places, but had spread throughout the length and breadth of him. Bright splotches marred his inners and flowed in the blood pumping from his heart. Ill humors were circulating to every corner of his being.
    Though the power was rolling through me, seeking out the wrongness, I felt resistance. The more I sought out the spots of red, the slower Bertrand’s heart seemed to beat. I focused there, mentally squeezing the organ, expelling the blood, and encouraging it to beat faster, but it wasn’t working. The moment I released it from my mental grasp, the heart went back to its labored pulsing. I could not make up the difference he needed. Bertrand’s body was shutting down, going cold and still, one part at a time, and I could not stop it. Helplessness beat at my mind. How could this be happening?
    The apprentice was frantic. “No! You must not die! Do you hear me?” His demands were loud. I felt like howling with him as well.
    Tormod? The probe was soft, within my mind.
    Aye, Bertrand, I’m here, I answered. Tell me what to do, how to stop this! His fingers were going cold in mine.
    I am afraid. Pray with me.
    Pray! No! Tell me what to do. I need help healing ye. My eyes swam.
    It’s too late. There is no healing that will make a difference, lad.
    The shock of his words made my guts heave. Too late! It could not be. But I can do it. I can heal ye. The power is here at my call.
    Need ye. Please. His voice was weak.
    What can I do? Anything. Just show me an’ I will do what is needed. I was desperate to help.
    Want to go home, Tormod. Take me there.
    Aye. Let’s get out of here. Help me heal ye an’ we can go home. I begged him.
    No. My body is done. Take me there.
    Understanding came to me all at once. There was nothing more I could do to heal him, but I could bring him comfort. Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, I began, and within moments the beauty of the prayer whispered between us. I called upon images then of our land, Scotia: the roar of the sea, the golden pink of dawn creeping over the cliffs, mist lying deep over the dark purple lochs. I let them fill my mind and his as well.
    As the prayer came to an end, Bertrand’s eyes opened and fixed on mine. I felt his body go lax then, and as the life drifted out of him we shared one last memory: A man’s pale blue eyes, faintly lined with age and knowledge. Bertrand was gone before I could ask why the Archbishop was the last man he thought of before he passed. Then everything within me wept.
    â€œI’m sorry.” The whisper of words barely brushed the air, but I heard them. The trainee’s eyes were not on me when they were uttered, but they rose to mine as if he felt my pain across the body of my friend. My guts twisted with the sudden fury that overtook me.
    â€œHere now. What’s the commotion? Step back.” An old man’s voice heralded the arrival of a Templar healer, come too late to do any good. At his side were several knights and a bevy of the curious.
    Immediately, I slammed my shields in place and edged my way back from the body. The trainee’s eyes remained on me, his questions plain. Who was I? How much did I know? Guilt and fear rolled off him as I circled the onlookers. Then, just as I slipped through the door, I darted a look back at him and shoved a whisper hard into his unprotected mind. Ye will pay for this.

I could do nothing for Bertrand and although I wanted to stay and bury him with honor and dignity, there were things at stake now that demanded I keep my wits about me. The preceptory was no longer a place of safety. I had to get back to tell Aine what had happened. The ache in my chest grew wider when I thought about trying to speak the words to her. Bertrand was one of us. And now he was gone,